The Malacia Tapestry Read Online Free PDF Page A

children.
    The show had enchanted us. Afterwards, when the magic frame was folded and gone, my father had said, ‘There you have observed the Traditional in operation. Your delight was because the fantoccini man did not deviate from comedic forms laid down many generations earlier. In the same way, the happiness of all who live in our little utopian state of Malacia depends on preserving the laws which the founders laid down long, long ago.’
    I slipped through a muddy by-lane, where a few market-stalls straggled on, becoming poorer as they led away from the central magnet of St Marco, towards the sign of the Dark Eye. At the entrance to the court stood the Leather-Teeth Tavern, its doors choked with red-faced countrymen, drinking with a variety of noise, enjoyment, and facial expression. Fringing the drinkers were whores, wives, donkeys, and children, who were being serenaded by a man with a hurdy-gurdy. His mistress went round the crowd with a cap, sporting on a lead a red-scaled chick-snake which waltzed on its hind legs like a dancing dog.
    Beside the tavern, stalls of fresh herrings had been set up. I tucked my coat-tails under my armpits to get by. Beyond, a couple of bumpkins were urinating and vomiting turn and turn about against a wall. The overhanging storeys of the buildings and their sweeping eaves made the court dark but, as I got towards the back of it, I came on Otto Bengtsohn washing his hands at a pump, still clad in his mangy fur jacket.
    His arms were pale, hairless, corded with veins; ugly but useful things. He splashed his face, then wiped his hands on his jacket as he turned to examine me. Beyond him, lolling in a doorway, were two young fellows who also gave me an inspection.
    â€˜So you altered your mind to come after all! What a cheek you gave, also! Well, you’re only once young.’
    â€˜I happened to be passing this way.’
    He nodded. ‘All-People was right.’ He stood contemplating me, rubbing his hands up and down his jacket until I grew uncomfortable.
    â€˜What’s this zahnoscope of yours?’
    â€˜Business later, my young friend. First, I must have something for to eat, if you don’t mind. I’m on the way to the Leather-Teeth, and perhaps you’ll join me for some bite.’
    â€˜It would be a pleasure.’ There was merit in the old man after all. ‘I am feeling peckish.’
    â€˜Even the poor have to eat. Those of us what are going to change the world must keep ourselves fed up.… We aren’t supposed to think about change in Malacia, are we? Still, we’ll see …’ He grinned at me in a sly way. He pointed up at the leather-toothed ancestral depicted on the tavern sign, its segmented wings outspread. ‘You have to have jaws like that creature to eat here. Do you mind visiting our slum, de Chirolo?’
    We pushed into the tavern.
    There, Bengtsohn was known and respected. In short order, a grimy girl placed soup, bread and meat balls with chillies and a pitcher of ale before us, and we set to, ignoring the jostling bodies at our elbows. I ate heartily.
    Sighing after a while, and resigning myself to his pouring me more ale, I said, ‘It’s good to feel the stomach full at midday for a change.’ There I checked myself. ‘Why should I say “for a change”? Everyone today seems to have been talking about change – it must be because the Council’s meeting.’
    â€˜Well, talk, yes, but talk’s nothing – foam off from the sea. Malacia never changes, hasn’t done for thousands of years, never will. Even the conversations about change don’t change.’
    â€˜Aren’t you introducing change with your – zahnoscope?’
    He dropped his fork, waved his hands, shssh’d me, leant forward, shook his head all at the same time, so that I found my face peppered with half-chomped meat ball. ‘Remember that whereas talking about change is proper and